


Holiday Food

by shan_love



Series: Femslash Yuletide 2014 [9]
Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: Angst, Drabble, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Holidays, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 19:49:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2885111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shan_love/pseuds/shan_love
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whatever her location, she was still Mord’Sith, still used to excessive displays, and it was not the extravagance of the party that had her so on edge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holiday Food

The table in Aydindril’s great hall was all but mounded over with food and overflowing with drink, enough that even Cara, with her background in D’Hara’s high court, found the display a little ostentatious. But, whatever her location, she was still Mord’Sith, still used to excessive displays, and it was not the extravagance of the party that had her so on edge.

Rather, it was the cheer – certainly not something she could say she’d ever associate with her time at the People’s Palace – that had her feeling uneasy. The faces that surrounded her shown with undisguised happiness, their smiles were neither forced nor guarded but _real_ , and it was almost overwhelming being surrounded by such…openness.

That feeling - an unfamiliar, fluttering thing - only increased when she felt a light touch on her elbow, and whirled around, a snarl on her lips, only to find Kahlan smiling at her. “What are you doing all the way over here?” she asked, her voice as bright and merry as the decorations that adorned the glittering hall, and Cara felt the acid on her tongue turn to sugar.

Fighting the urge to scowl at the burst of (happiness, relief, love) _something_ Kahlan’s appearance caused, she lifted her shoulder in a shrug. It was safer, she’d found, to answer the Confessor without words when she was able. Actions were far less prone to misinterpretation and, despite her claims, she was not quite as good at reading the Mord’Sith as she might wish to be.

But Kahlan _did_ know her, too well it sometimes seemed, and as she looked at her, so closely she felt like squirming beneath the scrutiny, Cara could only watch helplessly as her carefree expression melted into one of concern. “Are you alright?” she asked, her voice pitched low and the blonde wasn’t sure what bothered her most; her concern or herself, for being pleased at its presence.

She sighed, unfairly irritated by her ruining of the brunettes mood. This was Kahlan’s home, she rationalized, her homecoming too, and, more than anyone else here, she deserved to be happy. That she cared about her happiness at all, was something she dared not read into. “I’m fine,” she said and she bit back a curse at how defensive she sounded. So much, she thought, for reassuring her and sending her back to the festivities so _she_ could slink away.

As predicted, the Confessor made no move to abandon her. Instead, she moved even closer, trailing her fingers up and down her arm in what she knew was meant to be a comforting motion. Her touch, startlingly warm even through her leather, drew her attention and she once again fought the urge to frown as, for the second time in as many minutes, she found herself unsure as to which option was the most disconcerting: Kahlan’s desire to comfort her or her desire to be comforted.

Keeper, when had she become so _weak_?

What had the Confessor done to her?

“Then why are you over here?”

Fingers itching to wrap themselves around the hilt of an agiel, she fisted them at her sides and turned her eyes away, jaw suddenly tight. It would do her no good to lie, she realized. Even if Kahlan wouldn’t – _couldn’t_ – know, it was like she just…didn’t have the _heart_ to deceive her. Her lip curled in self-disgust. If her sisters were here, they would mock her weakness until she plunged her agiel through her own chest. Or theirs. Preferably theirs.

“I have no place here,” she said finally, her jaw still tense and her gaze trained on the wall. “It is…unsettling,” Saying the words, the _feelings_ , aloud was like swallowing broken glass; they left her throat raw and her jaw aching and, honestly, if given even _half_ a choice, she’d have preferred the glass.

“Oh, Cara,” Kahlan said and it was her tone, so soft and sweet and - Keeper damn her, damn them _both_ \- _loving_ , that drew her eyes from their resting place. “Of _course_ you have a place here,”

She opened her mouth to ask where that could _possibly_ be only to catch sight of Kahlan’s hand, which had abandoned her arm at long last, only to take up residence wrapped around her own. And, as her eyes widened with sudden understanding, she couldn’t help the quiet, “Oh,” that slipped out.

Kahlan smiled, wide and warm, and tugged gently on their entwined hands. “Come on; I doubt you’ve eaten anything and they just brought out the dishes from Galea. You’ll love them,”

By the end of the evening, Cara wasn’t quite sure the brunette had been right about her loving the strange things Galeans liberally termed ‘food’ but she _was_ sure about one thing.

She was in love with Kahlan.

She just wished she knew what that meant.


End file.
